Not as Planned
by Cerebella Kennor
Summary: A girl goes to Middle-earth with the expectation that she'll take part in the Council of Elrond and join the Fellowship. She wants to kick ass and save lives while looking good - and making Legolas and Aragorn fall in love with her. Lord Elrond has other ideas: the Fate of Middle-earth is at stake, and she will play no part in it. Problem: the portal was a one-way only.


**WARNING: Misspelling of names! Not proof-read (I'm too lazy)!**

**This started out as a parody, but then it kind of turned into something a bit more serious... so yeah... Enjoy it regardless (maybe)!**

* * *

"Could you direct me to Riverdale?" she asked sweetly, trying to sound proper.

"Riverdale?" he repeated confusedly. "I have not heard of such a place."

"I meant Rivendale!" she exclaimed triumphantly.

"I have not heard of that, either," he said.

"It goes by a few names – oh, what's the other one? You'll _have _to know that one! Oh! Imaldris! Yeah, Imaldris – could you point me to it?" she wondered, thinking he would_surely _understand now.

It was rather odd that the elf before her didn't know those other names, though. He was speaking English, right? Or Western, or whatever it was called. Maybe he was just stupid?

"Lady," he said regretfully, "I am afraid I do not know the places of which you speak."

"How can you not?" she demanded angrily. "You're a friggen elf! Don't you _live _there?"

"I do not," he said, and annoyance was beginning to enter his tone.

"Then where _do _you live?"

"Rivendell," he said grudgingly.

"Omigod!" she shouted. "Like, that's what I've been _asking _you for five minutes! Show me where Ravendell is!"

"R_i_vendell," he snapped. "Not Riverdale, or Rivendale, or Ravendale. _Rivendell_. And it is not Imaldris, it is _Imladris_."

"God," she complained, "you don't have to be so grumpy about it! Like, it's not _my _fault you can't use English names right."

He twitched, but managed to cool his frustration at the stupid, ignorant girl. He was not certain what to do, for surely Lord Elrond would not wish for him to bring this _child_ into the valley? Yet, his lord would not wish for any of his guard to leave an innocent creature out in the wilderness to die – and this girl, irritating though she might be, had neither provisions nor weapons. She was dressed in rather obscene clothes for a female: tight trousers and an even tighter tunic that showed too much of her pale arms. If she hadn't looked so innocent and clean, the guard would have mistaken her for a harlot.

As it was, he had no idea what to do with her.

"So?" she snapped. "Can you take me to Rivendale?"

"Riven_dell_," he corrected absent-mindedly.

It would be best, he thought. He would bring her to Imladris and present her to his lord. His hands would be clean of her then, and he'd be free to return to the border in peace. The valley was only a day's ride away, whereas the closest mortal settlement, Bree, was a fortnight away. He couldn't leave the border that long without returning for leave, anyway.

"Come," he said at last, "I shall take you to Imladris and present you to Lord Elrond. Whatever errand you have there will be judged by my lord."

The girl smiled in triumph, and he spotted an odd gleam in her eyes. He would have to watch her – and warn his lord that the girl was not to be trusted, though like as not Lord Elrond would be able to judge her the moment he set eyes on her.

* * *

He rode long and hard, not stopping even for the midday meal. The girl had been squirming with excitement earlier, but now she clung tightly to him and grumbled every now and then about the ride. They were nearly there, and he was eager to be free of her, so he pushed on.

They arrived as the sun was beginning its western descent, and he was greatly relieved. The last time he'd been so pleased to see his home was when he'd come home injured after a bad skirmish with orcs forty years prior. The valley was so peaceful, and the Last Homely House was pleasing to the eye and soul. He let a quiet sigh escape his lips and told his horse to stop. The girl was too busy gaping at his home to notice that they'd come to a halt.

He nudged her less gently than perhaps was proper, but his ribs were sore from the hold she'd had on them all day and he was ready for reprieve. "Come, child," he said, "if you do not let go, we cannot see my lord."

"I'm not a child," she scowled.

He didn't comment. She finally let go of him, and he smoothly descended before helping her off his steed. She stumbled gracelessly and cringed, and his belief was reaffirmed that she had never ridden on a horse before. After ordering one of the guards at the entrance to take care of his horse, he led her into the house and toward Lord Elrond's office.

His lord bid them enter the moment the two stood outside the door, and the guard swiftly opened the door and motioned for her to go in. She might not _look _dangerous, but he wouldn't take any chances: he would never leave his back open to her now that they were no longer astride his horse – and especially not in the presence of his lord.

There was no telling _what _she wanted in the Hidden Valley.

"My lord," he greeted with a bow, speaking in Common for the girl's sake. "I have come from the north-west border. I found this maiden wandering the woods there, and she requested direction to Imladris."

"Indeed," Lord Elrond said as he examined the girl.

He made no sign of disapproval as he gazed upon her queer attire, but the guard knew that his lord was likely as bewildered as he himself was. How a girl could get to the border dressed as she was in the late fall, with no provisions or weapons, was a mystery.

"I have journeyed from afar to be present for the Council that will take place tomorrow," she proclaimed grandly (or so she thought).

A slight frown marred his lord's forehead, but otherwise he did not react. "What news do you bring, and from whence?" he questioned.

She paused with widened eyes, clearly not having expected him to ask her about her 'news'. "Uh – I am from the north, you probably haven't heard of it," she stuttered, then went on quickly: "I know the future of the Quest!"

"Which Quest?" his lord asked, maintaining his calm expression.

"The Fellowship," she said. "The quest to destroy the evil Ring of Saran!"

His lord paused, and he himself dared not even breathe. The stupid girl had gotten the Dark Lord's name wrong, but that she knew the One Ring was in Imladris... That knowledge was dangerous in the hands of the wise – how much more dangerous would it be in the hands of an ignorant child?

"Do they succeed?" Lord Elrond asked.

"Oh – yeah," she replied.

He nodded, then looked at her carefully and asked, "You had a vision?"

"Yeah!" she agreed, nodding her head eagerly.

"Were you present in these visions?"

"Well, no – but I can help! I'll know when the crabrain come and all about the Abalroge and Gollum—"

"But they are successful in their Quest?" his lord pressed.

"Yeah, I already said that! So since I know the future, you'll let me go to the Council and with the Fellowship, right? Ooh, maybe Legless can teach me to shoot a bow, and Eragon can show me to fight with a sword!" she said happily.

Lord Elrond blinked, and then a slow, amused smile spread across his face and he shook his head at the clueless girl. "You have just told me that the – Fellowship, was it? – will succeed and that you are not part of it."

"But I could stop Bramir and Haldear – he's an elf from Lothlorian – from dying!"

Lord Elrond sobered at this news, but he gave the girl a very stern glance and softly declared, "The destruction of the Ring is worth more than a few lives, precious though they may be. No, you will not be present at the Council, and you will not go on any journey with those chosen to bear the burden. You have said that they succeed without you; thus without you they must go."

"But I can _help_," she pleaded.

"You will stay in Rivendell until the events you are aware of come to pass," he continued, ignoring her, "and you will not meet Aragorn or Legolas, or, indeed, any who might be a part of the Quest or have knowledge of it."

"No way!" she yelled. "Can't I even _meet _them? Not even the Hobbits or that stupid Dwarf?"

As the words 'stupid Dwarf' left her lips, his lord's lips pursed as anger showed for the first time on his visage. The guard himself had passed angry long ago, when he realized that the girl – this stupid, stupid girl – had planned to meddle in things beyond her. Not only that, but he suspected that her main reason for it was to get close to the Prince of Mirkwood and future King of Gondor. He felt disgusted, but restrained himself. Lord Elrond would deal with the idiotic child.

"You will not," his lord announced. "I will have you placed in a home far from the Main House and you will be watched so long as the Ring remains in Rivendell. You will not be able to leave the limits of the house or its gardens, and you will not speak to any but the elves I entrust with guarding you."

"That's not fair!" she screeched.

Lord Elrond stood then, and the fire that burned in his eyes frightened even the guard at whom his anger was not directed. The girl stumbled back, cringing. The guard suspected that she'd finally become aware that she was in no way in control of her situation.

"The Fate of Middle-earth is at stake," his lord said slowly, tersely, "and I will not have an ignorant child – an _imbecilic _child – destroy what hope we have because of a mere flight of fancy."

She bowed her head and tried to stop the shaking of her hands, but both elves could clearly see her fear. She had probably not even thought of the consequences of her actions.

"Now," his lord went on, considerably calmer, "you will be brought to the house, and there you will stay until the Fellowship, as you call them, leaves. After they are gone, I may _consider _allowing you to wander around my home – but only if I have your word that you will tell nothing of what you know to anyone. Do you understand?"

She nodded, and it was a bare dip of her head, but a nod nonetheless. His lord turned to him and, speaking now in Sindarin, told him to bring her to the small guesthouse at the outermost edge of Imladris. No one had stayed there in years, but it was serviceable and – most importantly – it was secluded. No one would stumble upon her, and any that did would be immediately turned away.

* * *

On October 25th, the girl spent the whole day crying in her new room.

She wailed for days about the unfairness of it all, but none of her guards would let her out and hardly any of them spoke to her at all. She was lonely and afraid and hated Lord Elrond more than anyone she'd ever hated anyone before. How dare he imprison her like this? She just wanted to help! She could have done so much _good_! She'd have even helped to save Bramir's life, and she didn't like him _at all_!

Now Legless would never fall in love with her, and Eragon wouldn't either – she'd never have to choose between them, and get to graciously tell Eragon that he had to be with Arwin! She wouldn't ever learn how awesome she was with a sword, or with a bow! She'd never save one of the stupid Hobbits' lives or even that ugly Dwarf Gamly's.

It wasn't fair!

* * *

Two months later, after the Fellowship left Rivendell, she was let out of her prison – but she was still watched, and any time she tried to tell someone about the future or sneak away, she was led back to the secluded house and left there alone for a week as punishment.

She hated Lord Elrond.

When March 25th came, there was a shudder beneath the earth and a shadow grew in the sky in the far East. Then the earthquake stopped and the shadow vanished and all was peaceful again. She cried at that, knowing that now there was no way for her to do anything to help. It was over, and she hadn't done a single thing. She hadn't saved anybody's life, she hadn't had Legless fall in love with her – not even the stupid Dwarf had fallen in love with her! Not even a Hobbit! She wouldn't have minded Mary or Pippen or Frodo, even _if _they were short!

Lord Elrond summoned her to his office and told her she was free to go about as she wished. Except... well, she hadn't planned on a return trip. The portal had been a one-way only, so she was stuck here.

"You cannot return?" Lord Elrond asked her incredulously.

"No," she sobbed. "No! I was supposed to fall in love with Legless, and live with him!"

Lord Elrond did not show how very absurd he thought that idea was – really, Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm fall in love with an immature mortal? He showed the pity he felt for the ignorant girl instead: she'd left her home in hopes of having some grand adventure and finding love, and she'd found neither. There was no way to send her back, for neither he nor Gandalf knew of such magics, and she had already admitted that she'd never bothered to learn.

"I will not leave you without aid," he told her gently. "You cannot stay in Rivendell until your death; we Elves do not plan to linger here long, and it would be best for you to live with other mortals."

"But they're so _dirty_," she whined. "It's the Middle Ages for them! They don't have electricity or cars or blow-driers – they don't even have toilets and showers!"

"There is nothing I can do about that," he said. "You may go to Bree if you desire, and I will try to arrange some manner of employment for you there, or you may come with me and mine to Minas Tirith to live there, where Aragorn may perhaps lend you aid."

"I can't just stay here?" she asked pitiably.

"No, you cannot," he confirmed. "You belong with other Men, not with Elves."

* * *

And that was how she came to live in Minas Tirith, working as a maid in the king's household.

Her hair was often greasy because she wasn't allowed to wash very often, and her teeth turned yellow without having a toothbrush or whitener. For a long time she did not entertain the men who tried to court her since they were ugly or old or poor. She bemoaned the fact that she had to clean the palace like Cinderella – and she especially cursed the fact that she would never have a prince fall in love with her. She was polite when she had to be, but never more than that, and she made no friends for the first few years.

When she turned eighteen, nearly two years after she'd joined the Royal Household, she became sick of the loneliness she felt and finally made a friend. Her new friend criticized her often for the ideas she had and for her manner of speech, and eventually the girl learned to speak like the rest of the servants and to not share her thoughts at all.

Freedom of speech was not welcome here, and neither was the idea that women and men were equal.

By the time she turned twenty, she gave in to pressure and wed one of the kitchen staff: a low-level cook whose job it was mostly to fetch things or prepare food for cooking. She did not love him, and she did not find him attractive like Legolas or Aragorn – or even Merry or Pippin or Frodo. She didn't want to be called an old maid any longer, however, so she let him court her and agreed to marry him a year later.

The marriage was alright, she thought. He wasn't ugly or old – in fact, he was only four years older than she was – and he was so used to following orders that she was often the one to make the decisions.

They had four children together, and he raised them like people of his station would: ready to take on their parents' jobs when they died. She instilled some sense of free will and thought in them, and encouraged imagination and fantasy.

One of her sons became a soldier, an archer. Another went into the kitchen with his father. Her daughter joined her mother in cleaning the palace and became a maid.

Her fourth child, her baby, died from illness when he was but five years old.

She and her husband couldn't afford to send him to a healer, so they had to deal with the sickness by themselves. She'd tried to do what her mother had done for her when she was with fever: cool water baths, liquid foods, but the fever did not go down. Her son began to hallucinate and he grew greyer and greyer and moved less and less until, one night, he died.

She hadn't ever been able to forget that, or forgive herself for it. Her husband felt the same about himself. Neither of them spoke of it, because it was too painful.

Sometimes she would think about her old life, her old world.

She wondered what she would have been doing there, if she hadn't come here. She might have been a dentist, like she'd wanted. She would have been living in a nice house or apartment, somewhere clean with fresh running water. She'd have toilets and showers and sinks in the house. She'd shower every day – or twice a day, if it suited her – and she'd buy new clothes more often than just when her old clothes were falling apart. She could have married someone handsome, maybe, instead of someone just alright-looking. She'd have her parents and her siblings with her, and her friends.

But she gave that all up to come here – and here she remained until her death.

She died at age fifty-one after catching a bad cold from being out in the rain, and her husband and three living children stayed at her bedside until she passed away.

Life hadn't gone as she'd wanted it to, as she'd planned, but in the end... at least she hadn't been alone. She'd had her family with her, her husband and children. She might not love Middle-earth, but she'd loved her family.


End file.
